Hospital
by torsui
Summary: Sage goes to visit a bed-ridden Rowen. Short and pointless -- just some interaction 'twixt the two. ^_^


Again with the stupid titles. Pointless—just a little interaction between Rowen and Sage. ^_^ This may or may not develop into something more yaoi-y. Oh, look, I've coined a new word. *snirt*

**Hospital**

The sound of soft shoes upon the floor caused blue-lashed eyes to flicker almost grudgingly open, but the reluctance disappeared as their owner saw exactly who had come to visit. Dark blues shone even as they focused out of sleep-induced fog, and the figure in the bed struggled to sit up.

"Sage!"

Date Sage smiled as he glided in, setting the shopping bag he held onto the floor beside Rowen's bed. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you."

"Nah, s'okay, I was gettin' ready to get up."

Sage smirked. "Why is it you don't wake up this fast at home?"

Rowen pondered this for a second. "Maybe cause I don't use antiseptic-scented air freshener? Can't even enjoy what sleep I do get—stinks like hell."

He had a point. Something about hospitals always made Sage want to scrub himself down. The way they concentrated the smell of too much death and sickness made it linger in his hair, his clothing . . . and Rowen had it a hundred times worse, being the bearer of Strata. This was the boy who developed headaches if his cologne was applied too liberally.

"Anyway, whe'ah th' othas?" Rowen's voice jolted Sage out of his reverie, and the blonde chided himself for his lapse. "Or they send you ta be th' sacrificial victim?"

Sage chuckled. "Actually, no. Mia finally conscripted us into repainting the upstairs bathroom—you were cut a break there."

"So how come you'a he'a?"

"Because they needed somebody to deliver our rescue package." So saying, Sage lifted the bag up and placed it gently on Rowen's lap. The archer propped himself up further, face breaking out into a smile.

"Fa me? How sweet. I do hope you included my chemistry set."

"And have you create even more work for the hospital staff? I don't think so." It was largely due to Rowen's "mad scientist" acts that the aforementioned bathroom was undergoing repairs. "Anyway, there are plenty of things to keep you occupied for now."

Rowen had been rummaging through the bag. Now he withdrew a metal container. Tissue paper peeked out from beneath the lid.

Blue eyebrows knitted into a frown. "What's this?"

"Something from Sai. He figured you were getting sick of hospital food," Sage explained as Rowen opened the tin. The archer's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree at the sight of the candy nestled within. Sage smiled knowingly. "Like it?"

"_Like it?" Rowen repeated incredulously. He popped a good-sized chunk of fudge into his mouth and sighed in sheer bliss. Sai's chocolate made Hershey's seem like penny candy. "When the boy dies I'm nominatin' him fa sainthood."_

Sage reached over and snagged a bit of marzipan for himself. "Kento's been slavering for some ever since Sai pulled it out of the fridge," he said, delicately licking his fingers. "You're going to have one pouty Hardrock when you get home."

Rowen chuckled. "Tough luck. Wait 'til _he gets hit by a car and __then we'll see what th' fishy whips up fa 'im."_

"He's justified in complaining, though—Sai's outdone himself." Sage fished out a piece of fudge, then searched further through his bag. "Oh yeah. Ryo dumped your Gameboy in here, as well as a store's worth of batteries." He produced Rowen's royal blue portable brain-cell detonator. "I added some books and managed to get your homework for the next three days."

The bearer of Halo set the bag upon the side table, then tilted his head. "Anything else for our current invalid?" A corner of Rowen's mouth quirked in dry amusement.

"Very funny. Nope, I think you guys've covahed most everythin', thanks." He paused. "'Cept for a computer, a' course."

"Don't think so."

"Not even a laptop?"

"No."

Rowen pouted. "Drat. How'm I supposed to check my porn?"

"Baka." Sage whapped his grinning friend lightly on the head. "But seriously. No pain right now?"

The humor in Rowen's expression softened to one of genuine gratitude. "Nope, thanks fa askin'. I'm so doped up I'm surprised I ain't addicted."

"And yet you're still as smart-mouthed as ever," Sage jibed.

Strata winked. "Bettah believe it." Then his smirking expression changed to something more pleading. "Seriously, though, Sage, couldn't ya just heal me up or somethin'? I'm gettin' tired a' just lyin' here . . . and they didn't even put me in a room with a window."

Sage had already noticed that. Ouch. "There's not much I can do about that, Ro," he said gently, though not patronizingly. "I doubt you'd see much sky anyway."

Rowen sighed. "I know. It's just th' principle of tha thing . . ." Shifting from melancholy to lighthearted in a flash, he turned puppy-dog eyes on Sage. "So that's why I need ya to do a quick fixer-uppah. Please?"

The blonde shook his head. "Much as I would like to, the doctors expect you to be in this bed for a few more days. I can aid healing so you won't be in for another week, but you walking out of the hospital behind me . . . not going to happen."

Rowen groaned in frustration. "Gods. It _just hadda happen in a public place, ne?" he asked rhetorically. "I mean, if I'd been nailed near our property, all you woulda had to do was heal me right the'ah and then say I'd just been stunned, but nooo, stupid car hit me in the middle of the city. Who lets psychos like that drive in Toyama anyway?"_

"That 'psycho' was concerned enough to get you to a hospital," Sage admonished. "At least he didn't just drive off. And somebody spitting blood isn't merely 'stunned'."

"I know, I know. S'just that . . ." Rowen shrugged eloquently. "You evah been in a hospital fa an extended period?" Sage nodded. "Then you can empathize, right?"

"Unfortunately, I can."

"You see? Not only that, but . . ." Rowen lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The'ah's this nurse that scares the piss outta me. Her sponge baths woulda been banned by the bedamned Inquisition."

Sage cocked an eyebrow, a smirk playing about his lips. "You, a Ronin Warrior, part of the team that vanquished the Demon Lord Talpa, can't deal with mere hospital personnel?"

Rowen scowled. "I'm serious! Th' lady's built like a Mack truck! I'd gladly maim, murder, and pillage fa a damn showah, anythin' ta keep her away from me. Not only that . . ." He shuddered. "I think she _likes me."_

Sage's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. "And you've come to this conclusion how?"

A hunted look crept into Rowen's eyes. "Well, she seems t' be a little too enthusiastic in washin' my—"

"Nevermind, I don't think I want to know," Sage quickly interrupted. In spite of himself, Rowen snickered.

"My _back, Sage, my __back. Among other things. Honestly, though, th' nurses make my life a livin' hell." He rolled his starlight eyes. "If it ain't the woman with th' steel-wool sponge, it's the younger ones always askin' when 'Sage-kun' is gonna be around." The archer laughed as Sage blanched._

"Gods. Why is it that I can't say two words to a girl without having her ask to marry me?"

"Do you really want an answer t' that?"

"No, not really."

"Didn't think so. Geez, you sh'ua make a red-blooded boy feel overlooked, Date," Rowen mock-sniffed. "Demandin' that _I give them __ya phone number—not to mention ya sign, ya birthday, and ya underwe'ah size."_

"Rowen, don't joke about that."

"Who said I was jokin', Sage?"

" . . . . . . "

~owari~

Notes: Originally it was the size of something else the nurses were asking poor Ro-chan about. ^_~

My Sage swings anywhere from flirt-with-the-skirts to prim, proper, and reserved; aka between the perceived views of Sage and Seiji. Most of the time he lands somewhere amidst the two extremes, though I usually grant him a quick wit and faster tongue. For some reason he comes out very sarcastic when I write him . . . but all the better for bantering with Rowen, ne? Heh.

About Rowen's sensitivity to strong scents: that is a trait of mine that I loathe with a passion. Struggling through classes with somebody who's lathered themselves with a copious amount of body lotion sitting right next to you does NOT make for a happy AW. I figured that the bearer of Strata would have the same problem.

I really like the "when the boy dies I'm nominating him for sainthood" line. That's actually what sparked this entire ficlet. I wrote what precedes it to make it an actual story.

One last thing. Rowen's accent, as far as my friends and I have been able to figure it, is Back Bay. That's right, Boston. Not Bronx. ^^;; We have a coach at our school who speaks exactly like him. It's almost scary in a way. In any case, I tend to pour it on a little thick whilst writing. If it makes his dialogue hard to read, tell me and I'll try to cut back. ^_^

So until next fic, ja ne, minna-sama! ^_^


End file.
